


one more time as if we planned it

by orphan_account



Category: All Time Low (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Busking, Disaster Louis, M/M, Meet-Cute, To An Extent, everyone's American again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 19:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19340713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Harry,” Louis whines the moment Harry’s in earshot. “Did you hear the busker who just left?”“Could hear him a little from the bakery. He sounded like your type.”Louis hates that Harry knows his type already. “He bought chocolate from Zayn and now they’re going to fall in love and have beautiful, talented babies.”“Aw, it’s okay,” Harry says, patting Louis on the back before stealing a burnt bit out of the bag to munch on. “You’ll see him again.”~or, Alex is a street musician, Louis hates his job, and Venmo brings them together.





	one more time as if we planned it

**Author's Note:**

> hello it is me with more pairings that nobody asked for but i love!! i want to thank the mods of this fest for not only the excuse to finally write this fic, but also for hosting and giving rarepairs a chance to shine—i'm super excited to be a part of this!
> 
> this fic was heavily inspired by my own experiences at work, so shoutout to all the generic guys with guitars that i hear when i'm on a shift—you've been true inspirations. i would also like to give a shoutout to the guy who inspired the character of alex, who came in one day and played blink-182 and singlehandedly made my entire day better. 
> 
> title is from [nice2knou by all time low](https://youtu.be/l0JwqXYgfts) (because of course)

If Louis hears one more generic-looking guy with an acoustic guitar cover “Shape Of You,” he just might jump in front of a Duck Boat.

That’s the worst part about working in a tourist-heavy marketplace. The city of Boston has decided to sponsor street performers to entertain the crowds for the summer months—which, theoretically, is a great idea. It’s an investment in local artists, and people get the chance to showcase their talents to hundreds of people every day. He’s gotten to be good friends with Perrie, who does card tricks; Ashton, the kid who drums on upturned buckets; and Michael, a saxophonist who delights in playing Christmas songs at inappropriate times of the year. They’re a lively bunch, and Louis likes them just fine. The problem is that the board in charge of holding busker “auditions” apparently just lets any boring twenty-something with a guitar do whatever he wants.

The current guy—Matthew Derrick, Louis is pretty sure his name is—has a range of approximately four notes and still can’t sing on pitch.

And to add insult to injury, the kiosk he works at is directly across the atrium from the chocolate kiosk where his ex-boyfriend Zayn works.

The one thing—person, actually—keeping Louis from completely wanting to quit this job is Harry, who works at the Italian bakery a few stalls down and lets Louis have the slightly burnt cookies for free. Well, that, and the fact that he earns commission on t-shirt and hoodie he sells. And since everything at his kiosk has “BOSTON” emblazoned on it in obnoxious letters, it’s prime tourist fodder.

Finally, after a painfully awkward rendition of “Wonderwall,” Matthew Derrick starts to pack up his guitar and leave. Oh, peace and quiet, _finally_. Louis sits up a little taller on his stool and yawns, stretching his arms out and almost smacking a tourist with a knockoff Boston Red Sox hat in the face. Perrie has the week off for vacation, and Ashton usually plays outside. Is Michael next?

The busker who walks in next makes Louis stop and stare for two reasons. One, he’s brand new. They usually don’t add people to the roster this late into the season. Who _is_ this guy? And two, he’s exactly Louis’ type. He’s pretty sure he’s whined to Perrie about trying to find himself a man like this for _ages_.

New Guy is tall, with shaggy bleached blond hair and a black and white electric guitar slung over his shoulder. Despite Louis never having seen him before, he starts setting up his speakers and mic stand with ease; usually, when Louis watches new performers, they tend to flounder while trying to find the outlets. New Guy has no trouble with that whatsoever. Once he’s plugged in and adjusted the mic stand, he waves to the few people paying attention to him.

“Hey guys, my name’s Alex, and I’ll be playing a couple of songs for you today. I do take requests, so if there’s anything you wanna hear, let me know. Let’s kick things off with a classic.”

Louis groans, because every time someone says that, they almost _always_ mean “Wonderwall.” He didn’t like the song to begin with, but it’s one of those songs that nobody ever puts their own spin on. That, along with “I’m Yours” by Jason Mraz. Everyone plays it the same way.

Louis is just going to have to accept that New Guy—Alex—may be pretty, but he’s just another generic white guy with a guitar.

Except instead of the opening chords he’s come to dread, he hears something else. Something more familiar, and much more up his alley.

_Hello there_

_The angel from my nightmare_

_The shadow in the background of the morgue_

Oh, shit. Oh, shit, oh shit, oh shit. Louis fucking loves this song, and Alex is actually doing it justice.

He blinks a few times. Maybe this is a hallucination brought on by too many hours in a poorly ventilated old building surrounded by Harvard t-shirts. Because there’s no way Alex is cute _and_ a good singer _and_ singing songs that Louis actually likes.

When Alex finishes, there’s only a smattering of applause—most of the tourists pay no attention to the buskers, too busy trying to figure out how to eat a whole lobster or corraling their kids. Louis only claps when he thinks the musicians are good, so needless to say, he claps today.

Alex breezes through a few more covers—The Fray’s “Never Say Never,” Chris Isaak’s “Wicked Game,” and Oasis’s “Champagne Supernova, which Alex actually makes sound original—before finally announcing that he’s going to play an original.

As much as he likes Alex, Louis still winces at that. It’s risky to play originals here, considering how little recognition buskers get even when they play popular songs. People tend to care even less about originals.

But that doesn’t stop Alex. He just grins and starts to play. The song starts off softly, sounding no different from any other song that opens with acoustic guitar chords. But then he opens hs mouth.

“Lights out, I still hear the rain,” he sings, and Louis notices more than a few people’s heads jerk up when they hear the punchy opening note. Damn, this kid’s got pipes.

But because the universe loves to give Louis nice things only to yank them away, once Alex finishes his song, he announces that that was his last song. Judging by the lack of response from the crowd, Louis might be the only one disappointed by that news. Alex starts packing up, and Louis has the hidden wild hope that Alex might deign to come visit his lowly little souvenir kiosk.

Except that’s the complete opposite of what happens. Alex slings his guitar case over his shoulder and makes a beeline for—Zayn’s chocolate kiosk.

“No!” Louis exclaims out loud. A man rifling through the t-shirts gives Louis a weird look. “I mean—sorry, that wasn’t for you. Any shirts with a red sticker on the tag are 2 for $15.”

Harry comes to visit just minutes after Alex buys some chocolate and disappears, bearing more rejct cookies to share.

“Harry,” Louis whines the moment Harry’s in earshot. “Did you hear the busker who just left?”

“Could hear him a little from the bakery. He sounded like your type.”

Louis hates that Harry knows his type already. “He bought chocolate from Zayn and now they’re going to fall in love and have beautiful, talented babies.”

“Aw, it’s okay,” Harry says, patting Louis on the back before stealing a burnt bit out of the bag to munch on. “You’ll see him again.”

~

Louis does see Alex again. Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, from one to two in the afternoon. 

It’s like clockwork. Painful, agonizing, clockwork. Alex comes in with his cheeky little smile and angelic voice, plays a mix of covers and originals, and then buys chocolate from Zayn. Louis feels like he’s watching two leads in a romcom and he’s a side character written in for comic relief.

At least Harry comes to visit and listen to Louis bemoan his terrible luck. Until one day, about two weeks after Alex started playing regularly, Harry has an idea.

“You should walk by and drop a few dollars in his tip jar. And give him a smile and maybe like a wink or something,” Harry suggests.

“Won’t he think that’s creepy? Wait, oh god, what if he’s not even into guys?”

“You don’t know until you try. But as a fellow gay, I think my gaydar is pretty on point, so trust me when I say I’m pretty sure he’s not straight.”

“People still say gaydar? Also, you thought I was straight the first day you met me.”

“I said ‘pretty on point,’ not ‘100% accurate. But I still think it’s worth a try because you’ve been whining about him for weeks.”

“I have not been _whining_!”

“ _Now_ you’re whining.” Harry swipes the bag of cookie bits away from Louis as punishment for his whining. “Go give him money and fall in love.”

Harry makes it sound so simple. Except there’s the tiny fact that Alex’s window of performance time is always squarely in the middle of Louis’ five-hour shift, and Louis isn’t allowed to leave the kiosk unattended at any time. “Unless it’s for an emergency,” his manager always tells him. Louis _could_ call this an emergency, because if he has to watch Zayn make Alex laugh one more time he just might have a heart attack.

So the days pass without Louis giving Alex money and definitely without any falling in love.

~

One day, though, Alex says something that changes Louis’ life.

“Hey guys, just to let you all know, tips are definitely not required but are very much appreciated. The city sponsors me but if you like what I’m played, let me know with a dollar or two or whatever you feel like giving. I take Venmo, too, since I know a lot of us don’t carry cash anymore.”

He takes Venmo! This changes the game completely. Now Louis can give him money without having to leave the kiosk. He can even drop a suave one-liner in the payment description.

Now to figure out what to write.

“Harry,” he whines the moment he sees his savior in a white apron approaching. “I need help.”

“Help is here!” Harry grins and drops a paper bag on the counter in front of Louis. “In the form of extra crispy snickerdoodles.”

“Not that kind of help.” But cookies never hurt. Louis snatches the bag up anyway, fishing out a piece of crumb to eat. “Other help.”

“I already told you, starting _Game of Thrones_ is a bad idea. You already know how it ends.”

“No!” Louis gestures toward Alex with a flailing hand. “I think I have an idea.”

Harry steals a stool from a nearby table and drags it to perch next to Louis’ kiosk. “ _Tell me more, tell me more,_ ” he sing-songs.

“He takes Venmo! So now I have to think of something witty and funny but also cute so I can write it when I Venmo him $5 and then he’ll read it and finally come over to my kiosk.”

Harry squints for a second. “You know you can get up and go talk to him, right?”

“I can’t leave the kiosk alone! I’m the only one here! And _anyway_ , this means I can open with something clever and cool and make a good first impression.”

“Well,” Harry says after a pause, right as a family completely decked out in New York Yankees gear stops by the kiosk to buy t-shirts.

“The nerve of them,” Louis mutters after he’s given them their receipt. “Anyway, what?”

“I was just gonna say, think of, like, one thing you really need him to know and start with that.”

“You want me to tell him he’s the only reason I haven’t offed myself and scarred a bunch of tourists in the process?”

“Yeah!” Harry makes a grab for Louis’ phone. “Just, you know, in a wittier, cuter way.”

“That’s the entire problem!” Louis yells, a little too loudly, scaring two young Japanese tourists away from his kiosk. He picks up his phone before Harry can swipe it, opening Venmo and typing something into the message box.

**_To_ ** _: @alexgmusic_

**_From_ ** _: @louist91_

**_Amount_ ** _: $5_

**_Message_ ** _: thanks for making me not want to leave my kiosk to jump in front of a duck boat lmao_

Harry snorts as he hooks his chin over Louis’ shoulder. “Send it.”

“No fucking way.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not cute like you. I can’t get away with just sending something like that,” Louis says with a pout. “I should say something about his music, right? That’s not weird. We can bond over blink-182 and then he’ll see that we have something in common and we’ll have something to talk about.” Louis nods, his mind made up, and that’s when his carefully crafted plan goes to shit.

When Louis goes to change the message, his thumb slips and he hits Pay.

It takes him a second to realize what he’s just done. Harry, it seems, is on the same page.

“Oh my _god_.” Harry claps a hand over his mouth, but not before he lets out a single cackle. “You actually sent it!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Louis starts tapping frantically. “Is there a way to cancel a Venmo payment?”

Harry hops off the stool, pushing the bag of crumbs toward Louis. “Break’s over!”

“What the—get back here, you coward! You started this!” Louis yells as Harry dashes past a family with a toddler and disappears. God damn it.

He risks a glance over to Alex, who, with a little luck, hasn’t gotten this notification yet. Maybe Louis can finish the last half hour of his shift and then bolt the fuck out of here before Alex sees.

Alex definitely sees. He chooses that very moment to look at his phone. Louis debates ducking under the kiosk and pretending to sort the backstock, but a nosy (and partially masochistic) need to know how this plays out keeps his head above the counter.

Alex pauses, reading something on his phone screen, and then breaks into a grin, Louis hopes to god it’s because he’s amused and reluctantly charmed by his stupid message and not because Zayn beat him to the punch and sent something wittier, cuter, and sooner. Then Alex looks up and smiles directly at Louis.

Louis freezes and now he finally understands what the phrase _deer in the headlights_ means. He manages a smile and jerks his hand up to do an awkward two-finger salute. _Fuck. Now he thinks you’re weird._

That’s when Alex _puts his guitar down and starts walking over_.

That’s also when a customer decides to ask six thousand questions about the t-shirts.

Which means Alex hovers around the kiosk for ten minutes while Louis rings up six t-shirts, two baseball caps, and a set of souvenir shot glasses.

But finally, finally, the tourist leaves and Louis can gather his thoughts enough to turn back to Alex. “Hi,” he squeaks out. Alex is even taller up close, and Louis is simultaneously intimidated and turned on by that fact.

Alex just grins at him, holding out his phone to show him the Venmo notification. “Was this you?”

“Maybe?”

Alex laughs, tucking his phone in his back pocket. “It was clever.”

Oh great, now he’s tricked Alex into thinking he’s clever all the time. “Oh,uh—I mean, it’s true.”

“Please don’t jump in front of a Duck Boat. Then Boston will have nobody to sell tacky overpriced souvenir t-shirts to the tourists.”

“You say that like you wouldn’t love one of these tacky, overpriced souvenir t-shirts.”

“Well…” Alex picks up one that says “Yankees suck.” “Maybe this one.”

Louis sees this as his golden opportunity. “Oh, just take one.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Instead of an employee discount like most places, I get one free t-shirt a month. I don’t know what I’d do with a growing pile of t-shirts for a city I already live in, but hey, take it.”

“Fuck, man. Thanks.” Alex starts digging through the shirts, presumably looking for his size. “So how long have you been working here?”

“Almost a year. This is my part-time,” Louis explains.

“What do you do the rest of the time?”

“A little freelancing here and there. Blog posts and random articles and stuff, you know how it is.”

“Don’t I,” Alex sighs, finally pulling out a shirt. “Thanks for the shirt.”

Louis senses the conversation is coming to an end, and he simply can’t have that. “Wait, actually…one of the blogs I write for covers local musicians. Would you be interested in an interview?” he blurts out. It’s not a lie, but it’s also a flimsy excuse to ask for his number.

Alex looks pleasantly surprised. “Shit, that’d be awesome. When were you thinking?”

Louis shrugs. “Whenever we both have time.”

Alex hands Louis a card. “Just give me a call or an email. Let’s get in touch.”

The moment Alex is gone, Louis ducks behind the counter and yells into a stack of MIT hoodies.

~

Louis debates how long to wait to give Alex a call. He’s cleared the interview with his editor, at least, so it’s not like the story won’t happen. He just has to figure out how to make this transition into a date. If Alex is even interested, that is.

“Just be honest,” is Harry’s brilliant suggestion. “Tell him you just thought he was cute and panicked.”

“Again, Harry,” Louis sighs, “not all of us are cute and dimply and can get away with airing our disasters like that.”

“It worked the first time.”

“What makes you think I’m going to get that lucky again?”

But Harry’s weird advice sticks in his head after Louis leaves his shift. And so that’s how, a week after his Venmo fiasco-slash-miracle, he finds himself dialing the number on the card.

“Hello?” Alex answers after one ring.

“Hi, this is Louis. From the t-shirt kiosk? I asked you about an interview?”

“Oh, yeah! When’s a good time for you?”

“So, here’s the thing.” Louis pauses. “I do want to interview you but I gotta be honest, I kind of just thought you were hot.”

There it is. Alex is probably going to hang up on him now and never come play near him again. Or worse, he’ll go out with Zayn, who is infinitely cooler than Louis. Louis sniffs just thinking about how beautiful and musical their children will be.

“You know, I kind of had a feeling,” Alex says with a laugh.

“Wait, what?” Louis can’t stop himself from saying.

“I mean, not that I thought you were lying about being a blogger, I just didn’t think you actually wanted a story.”

“I do want a story! Just—it’d be someone else. Since it’d be, like, a conflict of interest now.”

“You just wanted my number, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Louis admits.

A pause. Then: “Original. I like it.”

Louis lets out a sigh of relief. “Sorry, I know I was kind of weird about it.”

“Hey, like I said, it’s original.”

“So—”

“Do you like coffee?” Alex asks.

“I—yeah, I do.”

“There’s a place in Cambridge that just opened up. Are you free tomorrow afternoon?”

Louis nods, even though he knows Alex can’t see him. “Yeah. How’s three?”

“Three.”

~

Six months later, Alex debuts a new original song for the perpetually unappreciative crowd. Louis grins as he hears the opening chords, hiding his smile as he folds a stack of shirts. He remembers being with Alex when the inspiration hit—rather, he remembers Alex darting out of bed to grab his guitar and almost being pushed onto the floor in the process.

They’ve been pretty quiet about things, only telling a handful of their friends. Harry knows, of course, because there isn’t a damn thing that Harry doesn’t know. Just weeks earlier, he’d brought the news that Zayn had started dating one of the other buskers named Gigi.

“But between you and me, she’s not that good,” Harry whispered conspiratorially as he bit off a chunk of an oatmeal raisin cookie like it personally wronged him. Louis just nodded and snagged a piece for himself.

It feels easy, and Louis likes that. He’s his own person, and Alex is his, but they fit together so effortlessly that Louis can’t believe he ever thought relationships had to be a struggle. They haven’t really talked about the future yet, but that’s okay.

He still kind of wants to throw himself in front of a Duck Boat when Alex leaves and one of the boring musicians takes his place, but hey. At least he knows that when he finishes his shift, Alex will be waiting for him with a cold brew and a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> cheesy ending? yeah. as always, thank you for reading!


End file.
